Brown Eyes
by scorpionmother
Summary: My thoughts/ideas on what I would have liked to happen the night of the storm during Above the Vaulted Sky. I hope to add the next chapter from Ethan's point of view.
1. Chapter 1

The room is densely perfumed with the intoxicating smoke of the cannabis cigarette she grasps so delicately in the silver vice. Her mouth caresses the end as with rising panic she draws the velvet vapours into her lungs. She is desperate for calm, for peace that seems to have evaded her in so long. The heavy, silver backed brush that she had been rhythmically drawing through her midnight tresses lies idle now her fingers flutteringly caressing the smooth coolness of its handle. Brushing her hair has in the past pacified her but not tonight. Her thoughts thrash caught within the net of imagination, images found then lost in a seemingly endless cycle. But within the frenzied gallery a portrait seems to emerge, a brush, a tremor of fledgling wings which unfurl into solid colour. One that is constant and in a sudden rush of understanding she realises for the last months has been eternal. There are always eyes, brown eyes, intense, captivating, somewhat lacking in the usual warmth but their honest coolness is like a balm promising, offering protection and release.

Electricity in the air from the coming storm sparks against her pale skin which vibrates with trapped energy, every hair seems to stretch out with a yearning, physical want. Suddenly the room, the scene of so many conflicts but also a haven seems to shrink in on her, trapping her and yet she has an anchor. The brown eyes in which lurk an image her bruised mind refuses to fully acknowledge and yet holds no horror for her, cocoons her seeming to caress her heightened senses

The burning brand flutters from her lips that have suddenly dried landing into the cooled, spiced tea she has failed to drink. Her lips, dry with skin as delicate as bible pages speak a word like a benediction, a prayer, his name.

"Ethan."

It is said on a breath lacking the usual deep timbre of her own voice. A sigh, escaping moth like from her trembling lips full of wanting. It seems to hang, glowing in grey tendrils in front of her like a question that can only be answered by need.

The brown eyes, his brown eyes are the only image her mind sees but it is not enough. Her own eyes opaque now with silent longing ache now to see them in front of her. To look deep into their depths through the translucent umber into his very soul. To discover whether the sudden burning need is reflected back at her.

For a moment she is undone by the realisation of her own feelings and the fact that he has not appeared already. However she is grateful. As much as she is fascinated by the darkness in him it is the light, that tiny but incandescent flame that she is drawn to, the twin of her own that she requires tonight. There could be time enough for them to explore their beasts if the future allows it. But there is only the now, the future does not exist for her, for him, for them tonight.

She finds herself standing, moving with graceful purpose towards the door. Her feet glide over the floor silently seeking, her skin hyper sensitive to the textures beneath them. She feels drawn like a helpless insect ecstatically caught by the lush scent of nectar.

It is in that moment she knows that in the rooms below her he too is aware of the change in the atmosphere. His glass has been laid down the honey harshness of the bourbon he favours flavouring the air around him smooth on his tongue coating his lips. He too is moving lupine like, his long, lithe but deceptively powerful body responding to her unspoken siren call.

"I come"

It is unsaid and consciously unthought but it resounds in the charged air around her as she travels ethereally along the gloom of the corridor. The image of liquid brown eyes fills her and yet behind she senses a building rage, tearing at the masterpiece with claws trying to rend it into tatters. A flash of burning red behind the brown, she gasps her hands flutter to her throat but she is safe at the top of the stairs. The horror is quelled for now. He is there.

He is standing poised, expectant his brown eyes raised to hers, his face expressionless and yet the emotion is tangible between them it exists like a living breathing thing. She stops halted by the sheer manliness of him. The image of brown eyes superseded by the actual living orbits, that even over the distance captivate and hold her in thrall.

The brown never leave the blue as he ascends. At the last second she steps aside as if to give him the gentlemanly choice of passing her by to claim the sanctity of his own room. But he stops as she knew he would, drawn to her as a moth to a flame. Her eyes burn deeply into his, which shine with questions in their very depth. The attraction radiates off him and her soul seems to almost emerge from her physical being reaching out for his.

Without thinking she raises a hand to cup his face her palm brushing the sharp curves of his cheekbones, grazed by the stubble that cloaks his cheeks. Her fingertips bury into the denseness of his hair and those windows of brown close, just for a second as a quiver runs through him. It is as if a spark in her has been transferred skin to skin to his essential being.

Then suddenly it is as if her mind shatters into half. She sees herself break the contact of his living flesh and move away to descend the stairs and in another place she screams with frustration at her lack of fortitude her cowardliness. But the other part of her mind, her true self holds firm to the anchor of his eyes. Her fingertips caress deeper grazing his scalp as finally his own warm hand snakes around, under the sable silk of her robe to rest burning against her linen shielded hip. His eyes become molten but never leave her gaze as slowly almost without moving he lowers his lips to hers.

His kiss so gentle seems to slam into her very core. His lips brushing almost imperceptivity over hers awaken in her a deep seated passion that is not fierce but stronger than iron. Her other hand raises to the back of his head increasing the pressure so the kiss deepens. The taste of him, a mix of the bourbon, wood smoke and the faintest coppery tang of blood is intoxicating and a moan escapes her lips opening her mouth under his seeking kiss. His tongue dips between her lips finding her own and exploring her as she yields completely to his domination. The pressure on her hip increases and is joined by his other hand now tangling into her hair pulling her deep into the sanctity of the hardness of his body. Her hand flutters down from the warmth of his cheek her fingers curling into the smoothness of his cotton shirt. She feels his heart beating in time with her own a rhythmic thudding that seems familiar. She is overcome by him, totally under his spell and yet safe. His lover's kiss possesses her body and mind and her soul feels akin to his. After what seems eons he frees her mouth to trail a line of fire down over her cheek descending, the tip of his tongue laving the soft flesh of her neck until his swollen mouth rests of the juncture where her neck meets her shoulder.

Her name vibrates against her heated skin his cool breath causing the tiny hairs to quiver. She draws back to lock her gaze back onto those brown eyes fierce now with passion. Her want and need for him is reflected back at her and yet there is no triumph in them. His liquid eyes glow with pride and adoration, not the slavish look of an enchanted man but the utter confidence of an alpha male claiming his mate.

Her fingers tighten round his shirt as suddenly she feels boneless held in that feral observance. His eyes burn brighter and then as if in answer to her unspoken request he sweeps her effortlessly into his arms snatching her into the muscles of his chest that heaves almost as if his heart could break out through his ribs. Her gasp is smothered by the decent of his mouth again onto hers almost bruising in its intensity. As he breaks the kiss he begins to stride towards down the corridor as her fingers pluck at the buttons of his shirt and undershirt, laying his smooth collar bone open to the play of her lips and tongue. Her mouth curves into a slight smile as she hears what could only be described as a growl emanate from this throat.

"Christ Vanessa I could take you here and now!"

His voice throbs causing the sudden pooling of liquid between her thighs which jerk together in need.

He stops as he reaches a door his large hands making quick work of opening it. They are through, and he takes two steps into the shadowy chamber before letting her slip from his arms. Never breaking the contact of her wild eyes he backs towards the door the click as it closes sounds like the sealing of some kind of otherworldly contract. The space between them is cool and silent and yet his eyes, those brown eyes bind her to him and even though not one part of their physical being touches yet their minds and souls cleave together so completely she is not bereft.

He finally breaks the gaze as his eyes trace down her body.

Then he lifts them back to hers.

"Take off your robe darlin'."


	2. Chapter 2

She stands before him, a dark goddess. Her azure eyes seem to glow in the flickering lightning that intermittently lights the sky through the window that frames her. His ears are assaulted by the rapidly approaching thunder as it rolls in over the rooftops and yet it is her image that fills all of his senses.

In abeyance of his request her pale hands rise to her shoulders, her fingertips delicately brushing the velvet blackness of the silk robe, which falls, rippling behind her to be lost in a pool of darkness at her feet. Her face is enigmatic but the passion he senses behind her calm exterior is a thing of wonder for him. That she wants him, as he has so long needed her is more than he could have ever dared hope. He has sensed over the past weeks a closening of the bond that has always been there between them since he pledged himself to her, but in a deeper physical way. Finding her eyes on him and then holding his gaze moments longer than necessary. She has seemed to seek his company, to find excuses to touch him. Her delicate hands brushing his hair back behind his ears, holding his fingers between hers, caressing them slightly. He in return has returned those polite touches, which he prayed in hope were the result of more than friendship. Finding excuses to lay his hand on her, the small of her back as she entered a room, clasping her hand as she exits a carriage. He feels his blood heat, warming the space that he has created between them.

The cream of her skin seems darker now against the stark white of her simple linen nightgown, which in a sudden flash of lightning becomes translucent outlining the too thin lines of her body with an almost eerie glow. His warm eyes trace the outline of her full breasts noticing the pearling of her nipples. The beast inside of him howls to snatch her to him, to ravish her body with savage lust, to lose himself in the burning heat of blood and flesh, and yet the man he is aches to wait, to savor this moment, every touch, every sensation; to worship her.

Her fingertips now hook under the fine straps of her gown beginning to ease them over her shoulders.

"Wait."

His voice is heavy with emotion and within seconds he has crossed the floor space that separates them. She obeys. Her hands drop and she raises her sharp face to meet his eyes, which he fears will give away every secret to her probing gaze. His hands gently grasp her shoulders her skin satin like under his rough palms. He runs them up and down the smooth, dry skin and watches with pleasure as her eyes become hazy, her breathing become more pronounced and her lips open, flower like beneath his steady gaze. As her turns her unresisting body he manages to remove his boots kicking them away to rest against the wall. He lays his hand against her back, splaying his fingers across the ridge of her marble spine marveling at how large and rough it looks against her delicate skin and yet how right. His other hand quickly sets to work to finish unbuttoning his shirts that she began moments before, as he cradled her in his arms, pushing them down over his hypersensitive skin.

He returns his hands to caress the tops of her elegant shoulders and in one fluid movement sweeps the straps of her gown off over her arms revealing the long line of her back marred by the blacken brand of a cross. A rage crashes over him threatening to engulf him at the violation of something so perfect, so pure and yet in that moment she seems to sense it, stepping backwards, pressing her damaged skin into his body as if it would heal every harm. She feels so frail against him and yet this he recognizes is too a façade, as he can sense the iron power condensed in her tiny frame. His lips trace patterns over the top of her head breathing her clean, wild scent. His arms wrap her body embracing her into the muscles of his chest. He feels like he is clothing her in care and she shudders and seems to melt into him like she truly belongs there. For an age they stand like the conjoined lovers of the more traditional tarot deck; silent, his hands crossed over her hollowed stomach her hands bracelet like around his wrists, while outside the storm boils with the passion that permiates the air around them.

Her head arches back to lie against his shoulder exposing the pale column of her neck to him. His movement is swift and sure. He brings his lips to the sensitive skin open to him and runs them roughly down to the juncture of her shoulder whilst his hands steal up to capture her breasts. She moans his name as his tongue and teeth join the assault on her flesh as his hands gently circle the heaviness of her breasts, which she pushes more urgently against his palms. As he continues to touch and caress her skin her hands snake behind her back to nimbly unbuckle the belt at his waist and pull open the buttons on his trousers that slide to the floor. Her nipples peak under his ministrations and he now zeros in on the buds teasing them with his finger tips as she arches her back her breath hissing in and out through her teeth. Her own hands reach further behind him grasping his buttocks. She sinks her nails into his flesh as his erection is pressed against the small of her back increasing the friction as she brings herself up on her toes to press the side of her neck harder against his ravening mouth.

He is barely able to contain himself; her acceptance of him, the rightness of their two bodies and her response to his touch is more than he has ever felt and he is certainly not short of experience of the physicality between and man and a woman. She is part of him, belonging to him as surely as he belongs to her.

Then she turns again towards him her eyes huge, almost black in the gloom of the room punctuated only by the occasional rip of lightning. They burn with a passion that would have unmanned most men, but he is not most men, he is more than that. Her hands reach up to grasp his head jerking it towards her lips that crash against his in a kiss of pure passion. Her body melds to his and he knows in that very moment that he can and will never let her go or let any man, beast or devil sully the sanctity of their holy union.

He lifts her as easily as if she were made of ether. Her mouth opens and his tongue delves deeper than before tasting her exotic flavour, causing her to gasp into his mouth. Her legs wrap fast around his waist her hands are everywhere in his hair, fluttering over his jaw, raking into the hard flesh of his shoulders and back.

She breaks the kiss, her face fiercely beautiful, her wild eyes boring into his very heart.

Her voice sounds rough but strong.

" Take me to bed my love."


	3. Chapter 3

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"My love."

She looks down on him fascinated as he seems to savour her endearment, rolling it round in his mouth seeming to taste it as if it had an earthy flavour. She watches as his eyes, those brown eyes seem to become, if possible, even darker as something shifts within them. Her breath catches in her throat, as behind them she seems to glimpse a sight of another entity, one that should terrify her but only makes her feel safer. It is not unknown to her and she feel inexorably linked to it. To others it would rend and kill but to her alone shield and protect. His body feels solid, eternal pressed against her providing her the sanctuary her shattered self needs. Every nerve ending under her skin is akin to his, it is as if she can feel every fibre of him and she aches to have him slammed deep inside her. Her core spasms, as more wetness pools there. Her fingers dig deeper into the skin of his shoulders and as outside the storm thrashes out its passion, she feels the very muscles beneath, flexing, shuddering with suppressed need. Her very soul seems to cry out in triumph that this man, who is so much more than a mere man, is hers.

Yet, suddenly his large palms, which have been cupped round her buttocks, slide round and he exerts a gentle pressure onto the top of her thighs that are wrapped vice like above his hips, pushing her down the lean length of his body. She begins to struggle frantic not to break the joining of their beings but ceases immediately as his gaze seems to burn even deeper into hers. As her feet strike the floor he pulls her back into him closer than ever, his thigh between her legs, one palm shielding the brand on her back that no man has ever laid his hand on, the other cupping the side of her face his fingers pressing into her scalp with a firmness that shocks her. She braces her hands on his hips her fingers tracing the ridges of scars that her tongue and lips ache to trace.

His face fills her eyes and she can see a cacophony of emotions moving across his familiar visage.

"Vanessa I am not going to fuck you. Christ I want to. I can barely stop myself throwing you to the floor right now pushing myself inside you and fucking you so hard just to hear you scream my name, but not tonight. Be assured darlin' that I will. That I will spend days and nights fucking you against walls, over tables, laid between sheets whenever and wherever I can and you want, that I will lift your skirts at any opportunity and plunge into you until I fill your very soul, but not tonight."

She stands still, mesmerized by the sound of his voice rough and full of an emotion she never thought she was worthy to hear. The harshness of his language accosts her ears and yet she is not shocked by the words or the images that they flash into her mind, they only make her shake with even more desire. It is what is unspoken behind them that brand her heart deeper, than that which marks her flesh. She realises that this is not a rejection; he still wants her, that they will be joined in union. But tonight will not be the battle of bodies, fueling the most base, animalistic of needs that she had envisioned when she left her room earlier. Tonight will be the coming together of two souls that have been circling each other for eternity, two beings, who in their love making, could rebirth the world.

He steps back and part of her grieves for the touch of his burning skin but he does not leave her. He only sinks to his knees at her feet, his hands loosely hung at his sides. He is like a penitent before an idol and yet he is not bowed. His brown eyes shine with power as they continue to hold hers. It is she who breaks the contact she can hardly comprehend what she has unlocked within him, within herself. He presses his forehead into her abdomen and his breath warm on her skin causing her womb to contract with pleasure. She throws her head back in abandon her hands coming down onto his thick hair like a blessing and then she too steps away.

He looks up, his eyes warmer now than she has ever seen them his lips finally curved into the hint of a smile and she is undone by the beauty of him. Never has he looked so male, so strong and never has she wanted anyone more.

She holds out her hand to him. That hand that before has only snatched, scratched and torn at other men but offers him herself. He takes it in his and she can feel the callouses there, formed from gripping his guns, rough against hers, suggesting promises of pleasure against her skin. She pulls gently and he unwinds to stand before her. Her eyes never leaving the safety of his she begins to back towards the bed drawing her with him.

Her thighs find the end of the bed, the sheets feel cool against her sensitive skin and she slides down open to the heat of his burning gaze.

He stands over her his eyes as before raking her body and yet she feels no shame at his inspection, she wants to be known by him to have every inch of her mapped into his brain. And just as she is watched, she too watches him. Savoring every detail of his body, which is etched and defined in the lightning that breaks through the window. The hard chest dusted with a fine coating of hair darker than that on his head. His small nipples, darkly brown against his tanned skin. His lean stomach banded with muscles that tense and seem almost to ripple as her eyes burn him. But it is his manhood that captivates her. Although no virgin she has never seen a man fully naked and erect before her and she is stunned by the primitive power of him. The length and thickness of his shaft, the beading of moisture at its rounded tip is astonishing. Her teeth catch at her lip as she considers what it would be like to take him into her mouth and truly possess him.

"Love me Ethan."

She can bear the distance no longer she needs to feel him against her, embrace his nakedness and pleasure him for her own pleasure.

Finally he joins her on the bed tracing his fingers over her collarbone and turning his hand to glide it down between her breasts over her stomach and back in a path of fire and ice. His lips glide capture hers for a moment but before she can deepen the contact he lowers them and with exquisite gentleness runs his teeth over her collarbone biting at the delicate flesh there. His fingertips play patterns of desire over her shoulders. She shudders pushing herself against him and he lowers his head until his mouth is directly over one of her breasts her nipple peaked and wanting. She feels his wet breath puff over the aching flesh before he takes it into his mouth sucking and nipping until she hisses and his hot tongue laves the sting away. His mouth slides to the other and back again worshiping her breasts. With every touch of tongue, teeth or lips she slips deeper into the sensation of bliss. The pull on her nipples intensifies until she can feel it in her most secret of places tugging there in time to what is happening above. She gasps as the scraping of his teeth becomes more intense the pleasure fluttering between pain but his mastery of her body is such that it never becomes too much to bear. Her hands, which have been tangled in his thick hair, without her conscious thought begin to exert their own pressure downwards on his skull.

He lifts his head and she can see the change he has wrote on her body. Her nipples are peaked, deep wine red and wet with his saliva. She removes her hand from within the confines of his hair and lazily circles one of the claret nubs with her forefinger. His brown eyes now black with passion burn and she relishes the power she has over him and that he exerts over her.

A rough chuckle escapes his lips, he surges up her body and suddenly the mouth that has already almost brought her to orgasm is claiming her lips again, crushing them against his own his tongue dueling with hers and he rolls her ontop of his hard form. She melds against him flesh to flesh. His shaft is caught between her wet thighs and as she plunders the cavern of his mouth she rolls it between them. She purrs at the sensation of his deep moan into her mouth. They kiss like long accustomed lovers totally at ease with each other, caring of each other's pleasure. With a shudder she realises that his fingertips are tracing the raised abrasions of her branded back and she lifts her mouth away from his to gauge his reaction to the ruined skin he caresses with such tenderness.

"You are so beautiful, and this brand only makes you more so because it proves that you have suffered. It is the things that hurt us that cleave us together and will make us even stronger."

Gazing down into his liquid stare it is in that moment she knows that she can never leave him that he is the constant in her very existence. That she is bound to him as she is to God, wedded to the man he is and mated to that which lurks just under the surface of his humanity.

She lowers her mouth again to him, a contract sealed between man and woman, daemon and beast.

With his mouth still on hers he turns her onto her back, and at his gentle insistence her thighs open petal like and he lies in the cradle of her hips the tip of his straining shaft gently kissing her soft folds. He holds her gaze steady for a second then his eyes close as he eases inside her. She gasps as her body becomes accustomed to the sheer size of him, the pleasure ripples wave like through her as he seems to fill every part of her. She has never felt so whole, so complete, so totally at peace. He stops and captures her gaze again, she can feel his wild abandon held somehow in check, a control of iron like strength.

"Be with me darlin'."

And she is as then he starts to move inside her, familiar but so different in sensation and feeling than she has ever experience before. Her hips tilts as the rhythm increases and he slips his hands under her to support her buttocks deepening her pleasure as with every upward stroke the base of his manhood caresses that most sensitive part of her woman hood. He is everywhere, deep in her body, trapped in her heart, caged in her soul as his brown eyes pour balm into hers holding her in total thrall to him. She feels the heat flooding through her, burning her but remaking her in the furnace of his love. She raises her legs locking her feet over his thrusting back pushing her heels into his body urging him on faster as the passion and bliss blister through her in concord with the storm outside.

She can no longer recognise where she begins and he ends within the union of their bodies that flex and grind together. Her release begins to build and she can feel his control start to slip his movements becoming more erratic. The bond formed between their eyes break as she buries her head into his neck biting down as everything coalesces and she shatters screaming into a million pieces her muscles clamping down on him. Everything turns colourless as ecstasy and something purer than pain collide and she is totally lost within this man who at the moment of his release cries out her name like a benediction.

She does not know how long she floats between the worlds but deep in her consciousness she knows that she remains confined and safe, and that which has hurt her before has, in those long moments of pleasure been banished.

Slowly she becomes aware of a fluttering brush against her face, the sensation of roughened skin against her cheekbones. Her eyelids struggle to open to be confronted by eternal brown eyes, those brown eyes that now know her completely.

His breathing is ragged sounding like has battled for eons but his voice is soft in her ears as he renews his vow to her,

"I'm with you."

"And I with you Ethan."


	4. Chapter 4

In the dying light of the storm that has finally expended its passion he lies and watches the woman who has in a few hours completed and sated him as no other ever has. His body thrums with the remembrance of their lovemaking. Before this night he had only ever fucked, expended his need into the bodies of the willing many, and over the years there have been many. Women had always seemed eager to offer their bodies for his release and he had made good use of them, though never unkindly.

Suddenly, his mind flicks guiltily to Brona and their time, but he pushes it away – something else to add to the long list memories not to be faced. He had loved her in some way but her vision fades into oblivion as his eyes are filled with only this woman. Her eyes, the most peaceful he has ever seen them, glow like the opals his mother used to favor and he smiles to link the only other woman he truly loved with her.

Her hair surrounds them like a dark halo, a raven pool framing, when in repose as now, her Madonna like face. Under his thumbs her skin feels like the finest silk, paper thin, and he slams down on the thought of the damage his claws could ravish on her flesh. The wild tang of her scent hangs in the air underlain by his musk, an intoxicating fragrance that he draws deep into his lungs; the need to consume her body and soul is almost overwhelming. As his breathing returns to a semblance of normality he suddenly realises that he is still laying on her, his bulk pressing her into the bed and he struggles to roll off her small frame. But her body tenses, her hands grasp desperately it seems into his shoulders, pressing him back into her flesh, which is still joined intimately together.

"No, stay."

Her voice throbs with need and seems to meld down into the very marrow of his bones.

He falls into the eternal blue of her eyes, his calloused thumb sweeping over her swollen mouth.

"I will, but I'm crushing you darlin'. Let me make us comfortable."

Finally, she relaxes under him and he carefully eases off and out of her, part of him grieving for the loss of the soft sheath of her flesh. He rolls onto his back his skin welcoming the smooth touch of the sheets. Although their flesh is still burning he pulls one of the tumbled sheets over their nakedness and reaches for her slight form pulling her down onto his chest tucking the crown of her head like a precious jewel under his chin. Her revels in the feel of her. She seems to fit to his body as if she were made for him and deep down in his fractured soul he recognises this truth. She is; they are the two halves of a whole that was once torn apart to exist for an eternity as an unholy trinity.

He winds his hands into the satin tresses of her hand and feels her hands come to rest over his heart. Her breath is soft against his skin and although exhausted he knows that it would only take moments for him to be ready to take her again. He is intoxicated by her, an addict to the narcotic of her body. He is at peace.

Suddenly there is a soft but insistent knock at the door. Her body stiffens in response, her head popping up to lock her eyes with his. Her mouth opens and he presses his fingers against it to stifle her gasp. He relaxes though as his acutely sensitive ears hear soft footsteps moving away from the door, and his nose senses a familiar odour. She also seems to realise there is no danger of disclosure that is not already known and under his fingers her mouth stretches into a smile.

He quickly presses a kiss to her lips but before she can capture it in deeper pressure he slips from beneath the sheets and naked, walks towards the door. He hears her intake of breath and feels the pride of a man, a man wanted by his woman. He turns his head to look back at her, her tumbling midnight hair, the pale cream of her skin, the sheet pooling around her waist, her nipples still peaked from his touch.

Christ, it takes every ounce of his self-control not to do what he'd previously promised, to stalk back, push her down onto the bed, plunge into her welcoming flesh and fuck her.

But that could wait; another gift lay outside the door one that he knew would only add to their newly found time together.

He opened it without embarrassment and in the shaded gloom of the hall located the source of the scent. A tray lay in offering on the floor, her scented tea, a glass of bourbon, a piece of butter cream torte and the silver box from her room containing the trappings to make her cigarettes. With a thought of silent thanks to Sembene he retrieves the tray, shuts the door and returns to her, as he always will.

"Sembene. He's showing us he approves."

He places the tray carefully on the table nearest her and gazes back smiling his agreement. He settles himself on the bed by her side facing her in the dying light of the fire. Shadows have settled into the hollows where the bones of her body and face stand just a little too close to the surface and a rush of need to nourish her stirs over him. He picks up the plate but ignores the dainty fork. Instead he tears a morsel off the delicate sugar sponge and lays it against her lips. Her eyes, which have up to now followed him with the merest hint of amusement, seem for a moment to harden but he will brook no refusal.

"Eat for me Van. Let me feed you."

Her lips open and he transfers the bite into her mouth, on to her tongue. He keeps his fingers against her lips as the cake dissolves in the heat of her mouth. She swallows and then her lips open again pulling his fingers over the plumpness of her lower lip, her tongue cleaning the traces of crumbs away from his fingertips, which tingle. He offers her another piece keeping his eyes fixed on hers and again her wet tongue licks over his digits. As he feeds her he sees a flush rising up her neck to colour her cheeks. He can't believe how the simple act of feeding her could be so erotic, the play of emotions over her face as she enjoys the delicious desert and his attention.

Too soon there is only the merest morsel left but when he picks it up she shakes her head and he slips it into his own mouth making sure to smear some of the icing over his lips. Her smile is salacious as she reaches her hands up to pull his head down to her mouth. The flick of her tongue against his lips causes his manhood to shudder in response and his own hand catches the back of her head forcing the teasing touch into a deep kiss melding them mouth to mouth.

He reluctantly breaks from the nectar of her lips slightly shaken by the emotions she stirs in him. His hand reaches for the heavy crystal glass and he tosses down the amber liquid inside. Its sharp mellowness burns a trail of pleasure down into his stomach but if is a candle compared to the inferno that rages inside him for her.

She slides over in the bed and he immediately returns to her side lifting the sheet back over both of them. Leaning over him her naked breasts graze his chest as she reaches for her silver box and he is suddenly struck by the ease of their intimacy. There is none of the stumbling, careful choreography so normal in the bodies of new lovers. Their dance is unrehearsed and yet in perfect concord.

His eyes close; the flare of the match bathing them with gold as she touches it to the paper and that rich, spicy perfume which is so much part of her drifts up. His arm snakes round her shoulders and he holds her against him ghosting his fingers up and down the skin of her arm enjoying the sensation as they pass the cigarette between them in perfect companionship.

"And where exactly did a lady of your breeding darlin' ever pick up such a habit."

Her laugh is deep and throaty and she buries her face into his collarbone the vibrations racing pleasurably downwards.

"Now that is a long story for a storm ridden night."

"I've got all night."

She turns towards him pulling the smoking brand from his lips and inhales for a last time laying the now almost extinguished filter onto the empty plate. He watches as her eyes darken, her lips part, the tip of her tongue brushes their surface, which still look bruised from previous kisses. He feels her hand brush down his chest in a line of fire and ice, down until her palm and fingers possessively grasp his shaft. He hardens immediately as his brown eyes lock with those of his past, present and future. The knowledge that tonight is forever is the truest thing he has every known, he finally has purpose.

"But not for talking darling."

Thank you for reading and the lovely reviews. I have so enjoyed writing for the first time and hope to add more stories about these characters whose lives seem to have become part of mine. Any suggestions for ideas I would gladly try to take on and do justice to.


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